As for Wilfrid, having no choice in the matter of attire, he was wearing the same Austrian uniform as on the previous day. Pauline, studiously critical, noticed that he was without the ornament of a sword, and thinking it a pity that he should go forth without his full equipment, procured a handsome weapon from her father’s collection, and even went so far as to help him in girding it on. Having assisted Pauline into the carriage, Wilfrid was about to take his place by her side, when she cried, with a little gesture of impatience— “There! I have left my vinaigrette in the hall.” While Wilfrid went back to fetch it a troop of guards came riding by. At their head was Prince Ouvaroff, looking, so Pauline thought, pale, ill, and melancholy. “Now what is troubling _him_?” she murmured. No sooner did Ouvaroff catch sight of Pauline than his melancholy seemed to vanish. There came upon his face a smile, never seen there except when she was in view. He halted his troop, drew near to Pauline, and, saluting her with his sword as though she were the Czarina herself, said:— “Like the rest of us, you are bound for the Winter Palace, I presume?” And on learning that such was the case he continued, “You must permit me to be your escort. Place your carriage amid my gallant band and we’ll clear the way for you through the crowd.” “I thank you, Prince, but my escort is already chosen,” replied Pauline, pointing to Wilfrid, who at that moment was descending the steps of the Embassy. Wilfrid cast a smile at his old friend, the very man he wanted to see. There was much that Ouvaroff could tell him about the mysterious Grand Duchess. “You and Lord Courtenay are friends, I understand,” said Pauline. “We used to be.” The Prince’s air was so cutting and contemptuous that Wilfrid, whose high spirit could ill brook an affront, compressed his lips ominously. The cause of Ouvaroff’s disdain was plain enough to him. That Prince must have seen him stealing from the Duchess’s bed-chamber. Wilfrid’s face darkened, and his hand sought the hilt of his sword, but recognising the unwisdom of entering into explanations he turned his back upon the Prince and waited till Pauline should have finished her talk with him. In troubled surprise she glanced from one to the other, wondering what Wilfrid had done to alienate his old friend. “Do you know, Prince, that when you frown so you remind me—yes, of Paul.” This remark, spoken with no ulterior motive, produced a very strange effect upon Prince Ouvaroff. As if detecting a hidden meaning in her words he started sharply, as a man may start who is unexpectedly confronted with his guilt, glared at her for a moment with a wild eye that made him look more like Paul than ever, and then, putting spurs to his steed, he suddenly set off at a gallop, leaving his astonished troop to follow or not as they chose. Pauline watched him with a troubled face. She knew something now unknown to her a moment ago. CHAPTER XII